Did Not Need It

Field book, Maren. Beacon Court, in the Hollow, down to the meadow. On foot, with a cloth.

Quarter past two. Arrived in Beacon Court, sent for by Purl. Ori Vale was waiting under the awning. Before I had my breath back she told me the plan. Her mother knew, Purl knew and the gate knew. She would be walking me as far as Larkin’s bench. I asked when this had been decided. She said about eleven. I said nobody had asked me. Ori said, “That’s why I told everyone else first.”

Purl was up a ladder at the far end of the court, holding his good cloth out at arm’s length. The cloth was polishing a lamp. Circle, circle, flick. Then it towed him along the wall to the next lamp and did the same again.

Observation. A fleck came down through the awning at eleven and caught in the weave, near one corner. It is a grain of light about the size of a grain of salt. Since then the cloth polishes whatever it is carried near, always in the same three strokes. It cannot be hurried. If it is carried past anything, it stops short, like a dog on a lead that has smelled a sausage, and it will not come on until the thing is done.

Purl came down the ladder. “It’s done every lamp on the wall twice,” he said. “It’s done the empty brackets three times. I do the brackets. I do them properly.” He gave me the cloth with both hands. “You can have it till morning. It’s my good cloth. It’s taken me four years to get it the right sort of dirty.”

I said I wanted it on my field board at home before the fleck cooled, so the movement could be written down while it still worked. Purl said, “Take it. I want to go to bed.” It was twenty past two in the afternoon.

Half past two. Put the cloth in the pocket of my coat, which was over my arm, to free my hands. Took it out again at the corner of the court. The inside of the pocket has been polished. So has a button, and a pencil I lost in March. Did not need it.

Ori said, “Mum says you never wear your coat.” I said I carry it. Ori said, “I told her that. She said that’s worse.”

Ori asked to hold the cloth. I said it had to be held by whoever was writing down what it did, and that was me. She said, “Everyone lets me carry things. I want to do the part that gets written down.” I said I knew she could draw. I have seen half the Hollow drawn on the backs of Tavi’s price cards. So I gave her the field book and pencil to hold while the cloth worked, and took them back to write. Ori said, “That’s still carrying things.” It is. I have written it down.

Shortcut, Ori’s first. Down Candle Row to the gate. Ori’s claim: saves ten minutes. Time taken: forty minutes. The ordinary way takes eight.

Candle Row has nineteen front doors, and every door has a knocker. The cloth did all nineteen. On every flick the knocker knocked once, so all nineteen households came to the door. Ori introduced me to each of them. “This is Maren. She’s a charter from the meadow. It’s for work.” Mrs. Alder came out twice. The second time she had her hat on, because by then she thought it must be something. Did not need it.

Ori had the book while I was busy with the knockers. She has drawn something at the bottom of the page and asked me not to look. I am not looking.

Ten past three. The East Gate. The cloth went for the gate lamp, which is at the top of a tall post, and I had to go up Rill’s ladder after it. Rill held the foot of it. “I did that one this morning,” said Rill. I said I knew. The cloth did not. Circle, circle, flick. “Mind the third rung,” said Rill. Did not need it.

Asked Ori what she noticed. She said, “The flick doesn’t go up. It goes out. Away from whoever’s holding it.” I asked how she knew. She said, “On the knockers I was watching the knockers. On the ladder all I could see was your hand.” I have written that down twice, once under the cloth and once under Ori.

Steward Clove keeps the spare keys on a board inside the gatehouse window. The cloth went in through the window. Clove began to say that any improvement to the keys ought properly to be raised with the gate, in writing, and that there was a form for it. The cloth had done all eleven keys before he reached the form. Clove said, “Ori informed the gate at noon that you would be passing through. Ori did not inform the gate about this.” Ori said, “I didn’t know about this. I only knew about the walking.” Did not need it.

Still not looking at the bottom of the page.

Twenty to four. Out under the arch and down the east road.

Shortcut, Ori’s second. Through a field gate and across the sheep field, to cut off the bend. Ori’s claim: saves ten minutes. Time taken: twenty-six minutes. It comes out at the mule trough, and the mule trough took eleven of them.

The cloth did the stone rim. Then it did the water. I did not know water could be polished. It can. It is no wetter than before, but it is shinier, and the sky in it has very sharp edges. Did not need it.

Shortcut, Ori’s third. Over the stile and along the field side of the hedge, to come out at the milestone. Ori’s claim: saves ten minutes. Time taken: six minutes. The road takes ten. Saved four. I have written down four. Ori said, “Four is nearly ten if you’re tired.” I have written that down too, somewhere else.

Quarter past four. Ivo’s milestone. The cloth did the numeral in its three strokes. The strokes are slower now, and the circles are smaller. Even so, the figure 2 is so bright it can be read from the wrong side of the road. I crossed and checked. Ori crossed and checked. Ivo will cross and check three times and once more for pleasure, and will not care to be told why anyone is smiling. Did not need it.

The fleck is cooling. We will not get it to the field board in time. Ori asked if I was cross. I am not. I have wanted all afternoon to see what it would do next, and it has done something next all the way down the road.

Five o’clock. Larkin’s bench. Larkin not at home. A note pinned to the back of the bench says: “Gone up to the Hollow. Sit if you’re tired. Not that one.” The end seat has an oilcloth folded over it. That is the seat Larkin keeps dry for Ferris.

The cloth went straight for that one. Of course it did. I lifted the oilcloth. Circle, circle, flick, very slowly, and the seat shone like a new spoon. Then the cloth lay still in my hand. The fleck in its corner is a dull grey speck. Did not need it. That seat is kept very well already.

Ori folded the oilcloth back over it, corners square, the way it had been. We sat on the other seat, as instructed. We were tired. Ori had two buns in her pocket from her mother, who sent them on the grounds that I would have forgotten lunch. I had.

Then Ori said I could look at the bottom of the page.

All afternoon, at the bottom of that one page, she has drawn the cloth’s three strokes, each time it made them. A circle numbered one. A circle numbered two. A flick numbered three. Six sets: the knockers, the gate lamp, the keys, the trough, the milestone, the seat. In the first set the flick goes up. In all the others it goes out.

“The first one’s wrong,” said Ori. “I’ll rub it out.”

“Leave it in,” I said. “That’s the best one. Anybody can draw a flick right. That one shows me where you stopped looking at the knockers and started looking at my hand.”

Then I told her to put her own mark under the last stroke. “That’s where a charter puts her mark when she writes a card,” I said. “I’d start one exactly like this.” She made her mark straight away: a small round O with a line under it, quick and neat, as if she had been practising it for some time. I think she has.

Finding. The movement is written down after all. It is not on my field board and it is not in my writing. Field board: did not need it.

I tore the page out and gave it to her. Ori folded it in four and put it inside her coat. Ori wears hers. She said, “Is that still carrying things?” I said it was. She said she didn’t mind that sort.

Half past five. Next leg. I picked the speck out of the corner with the polished pencil and put it in a twist of paper. Ori goes back up to the arch before the lamps, with her page and Purl’s cloth. The cloth is now very slightly too clean. Purl will say so, and he will be right. Ori took the road this time, not the shortcuts. She said it would be quicker. It will be.

Me: down to the meadow, with the speck in a twist of paper. I am very glad Ori arranged the walk without asking me. My coat is over my arm. Did not need it.